


Incomparable

by writelights (orphan_account)



Category: 18th Century CE RPF
Genre: Late Night Conversations, Love Letters, M/M, Non-Consensual Kissing, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-11
Updated: 2017-12-11
Packaged: 2019-02-13 17:10:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12988620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/writelights
Summary: Sometimes I lie awake at night, waiting for him to come home, to come back to me. I want him to so badly, Alexander. I want him to come in to my tent at midnight and laugh and tell me it was all a joke. And then I’d slap him and then kiss him and then we’d make love as if nothing has changed. But that’s not going to happen because he’s dead and dead men don’t come into your room and sweep you off your feet.





	Incomparable

The tearstained paper is soft in his hands, as it always is. He holds it gently, careful not to damage it in anyway except for the occasional tear falling from his rosy face. God, if this is what it’s like to miss someone, he never wanted to do it again. 

The paper itself was nothing extraordinary. It had turned brown with time, but the black ink was still as dark as ever. The words were soft, swirled, in a handwriting he had grown to love. At first glance, it was just any old letter, and in truth, it was. But to him it was everything, the only thing left of a love that had once burned brighter than the brightest star.

His eyes were filled to the brim with tears, tears he had longed to shed for two years now. He was not the type to cry, he never had been. Even as child he had hated crying. When the news had arrived of Nathan’s death he had screamed, oh, he had screamed loud. He had screamed until his lungs hurt, until he couldn’t bear to scream anymore. When he was done screaming he fell, he fell hard. It seemed as if all he did was sleep, and when he wasn’t sleeping he was sitting alone, staring off into space. When people expressed worry he snapped at them, after all, they couldn’t bring him back. No one could.

Eventually he was able to return to a somewhat normal life, talking and scheming and fighting with Washington. They started a spy ring, determined to win the war. Well, to Washington it was about winning the war, to him it was about distracting himself.

Six months later was the first time he allowed himself to cry. He had been going through what few letters he had left, burning the most incriminating ones, locking away the most mundane, when he had stumbled upon the one that truly made him cry, the one he held in his hands right now. It was a simple letter, one from their junior year at Yale. But something about it was magical, the declaration of love too beautiful to burn and too lovely to lock away.

The tears had come like a storm, a hurricane just now reaching the coast. He had sat and cried for hours, until his body physically could not produce anymore tears. Then he laid down and fell asleep, with his head on the letter and his feet pulled up beneath him.

“Tallmadge…” A small voice and a tap on the shoulder awoke him from his reverie. He brushed the tears from his eyes and made an attempt to hide the letter, but the newcomer caught on too quickly. “If this isn’t a good time, I can return later.”

“No, you’re fine. I was just reading through some old letters, you know, seeing which ones are worth keeping.” He’s hidden the letter behind his back, where Hamilton can’t see.

“I don’t believe you.”

“I swear, Colonel Hamilton.”

“Let me see.” He held out his hand.

“No, sir. It’s personal.”

“Major Tallmadge, I won’t judge you, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re not harboring incriminating information.”

“What exactly is your definition of incriminating?”

_ God, if he gets his hands on this. _

“Anything that proves you’ve been breaking the law.”

“Then no, you may not see it.” He shoves the letter in his pocket, hoping he’ll be able to get the wrinkles out later.

The smaller man sighs, his brow furrowing. “May I ask what laws you’ve been breaking?”

“Ones that could get me hung, or at least drummed out.”

“Sodomy?”

How the hell he managed to do that, Ben did not know. “Yes.”

“You seem surprised. There’s rumors, you know. I first heard them back at Valley Forge. People talk, and they talk a lot. I’m honestly surprised I haven’t heard any rumors about myself, I’ve been told I’m quite feminine.” He laughs, but it sounds forced.

But Benjamin wasn’t laughing. “You’ve no right to judge me.”

“I can’t judge someone for a crime I too am guilty of.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I have bedded men.” His face is tense, he’s waiting for a response.

“Hamilton-”

“Alexander, call me Alexander. I can’t give such intimate detail about my life to someone who doesn’t even call me by my given name.”

“Fine then. Who?”

He sits down on the bed, and though he wasn’t invited, Ben does not stop him. The atmosphere is tense, after all, if they were caught talking about this they’d both be hung.

“I’ve had many lovers, both men and women. Most notably are my wife and a certain John Laurens, both of whom you’ve met.” He pushes a strand of red hair behind his ear.

“I’d always thought there was something more than friendship between you two. The way you looked at each other, there was no way that was platonic.”

“And you?”

“I’ve only ever slept with one person.”

“Nathan Hale.”

The name sent shivers down his spine and set his heart on fire. “Yes.”

“Well, Laurens owes me twelve shillings.” Both men laugh at the remark, though there is still an unseen electricity firing between the two. “You must have been heartbroken when he died.”

“I still am. Not a day goes by where I don’t think about him, his eyes, his hands, his everything. God, I miss him.”

“I can’t imagine losing Jack, especially like that.”

“You can’t imagine something like that until it happens, and even then it take years to truly accept.”

“You haven’t accepted it yet, have you?” He pats the bed next to him, silently telling Ben to sit down. He reluctantly obliges.

“No. Sometimes I lie awake at night, waiting for him to come home, to come back to me. I want him to so badly, Alexander. I want him to come in to my tent at midnight and laugh and tell me it was all a joke. And then I’d slap him and then kiss him and then we’d make love as if nothing has changed. But that’s not going to happen because he’s dead and dead men don’t come into your room and sweep you off your feet.”

“It must be so hard. I pity you, Benjamin.”

He puts his head in his hands and mutters a reply.

“What?”

“Don’t. There’s no need to pity me, Alexander. It’s those that have never known love you should pity, those that never get the chance Pythias and I had.”

“Pythias?”

“Nathan, I mean.”

The redhead puts a hand on Ben’s arm. “Pythias, I’ve heard that before. It’s Greek, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Pythias and Damon. You probably studied the myth back in college.”

“I believe we did. You’d die for him?”

“Not a day goes by that I don’t wish I’d have died instead of him. You’d die for Laurens, wouldn’t you?”

“It depends. Jacky and I have a complicated relationship, much more complicated than yours and Nathan’s, it sounds like. We’ve both been suicidal, we’ve both wanted to die. I think we’d prefer to die together than live apart.”

Ben sets his hand on top of Alexander’s, a quiet gesture of comfort. “I tried to kill myself, you know. Impulsively, after I found out. Luckily, by some miracle from up above the gun didn’t go off and that’s the only reason I’m still here to have this conversation.” Alexander didn’t know how to respond, but he didn’t need to. “Why’d you come here, anyway?”

“I’ve been worried about you, Tallmadge. You’ve been ill lately, I know that, but you also seem quite sad.”

“What’s the date?” It was a question that made understanding flash in Alexander’s eyes.

“September 20th.”

“He was hung on the 22nd.”

“I’m sorry, I had no idea.” He moves his hand from Ben’s arm to Ben’s face.

“What’re you doing?”

“I don’t know.” And he presses his lips to Ben’s, the worst possible thing he could have done.

Ben pulls away violently and stands up. “What the hell? I’m talking about my dead lover and you decide it’s a good idea to kiss me? I cannot believe you.”

Alexander lowers his head. “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to do.”

“Damn right it was stupid! Get out, please.”

“I’m sorry, Benjamin. Please forgive me.”

“I don’t know if I can. Now, if you are a gentleman, you will leave my tent at once.”

He silently gets up and leaves, the cloth over the entrance of the tent flapping behind him. Ben sits down and places his head in his hands, the letter forgotten in his pocket. The pain he felt was incomparable, and could not be cured with a kiss from anyone other than Nathan Hale, his one and only.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not crying, you're crying


End file.
